


and we built a world together

by hallowed (AMRainer)



Series: as told through history. [5]
Category: I Medici | Medici: Masters of Florence (TV)
Genre: F/M, Finally, Fix-It of Sorts, One True Pairing, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24724975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMRainer/pseuds/hallowed
Summary: it's in the way he finally gives everything to her that she knows all was worth it in the end.
Relationships: Contessina de' Bardi/Cosimo di Giovanni de' Medici
Series: as told through history. [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824556
Comments: 8
Kudos: 43





	and we built a world together

**Author's Note:**

> This idea had been with me for a while, and I know it's really stupid to ship them so hard when they were just in the first season, but the way they grew into love will always get to me.
> 
> Anyway (!) a big thank you to my sweet boy Teddy for giving me a second opinion on this one.

Emerald hues were locked onto the gardens sprawled before her, early spring bringing back the color to all things and even more now that her life appeared to settle down once and for all. No more threats from the Albizzi or the Pazzi since the former held no lineage, while the latter held no force given the almighty support from Rome that her family held. Even her marriage, one that seemed beyond fix, found itself in good state.

Something that was further than Contessina would have dared said through all those many years. Comfortable? Yes. Amicable? Maybe, _sometimes_.

Yet here she was, collecting the pomegranates from the tree that had been planted years ago when the fruit was her major crave during pregnancy. She found it in herself to this very date that she would be the one to harvest from those branches and not anyone else, for that little bud had been given to her by Cosimo himself, a first token of affection that he had bestowed upon her then.

Perhaps that was the very reason why, to be fair, the mother of the dynasty had dedicated herself to have this bud grow into a strong tree with fruitful ends. ' _The whole tree does not die because a branch falls'_ , were his words once, and she never wished to correct him more than then, for if that was a vital branch than what use could that tree have without it?

Her trail of thoughts was interrupted by the ruffle of the ground, announcing that someone approached her with calm steps. She had a hunch, really, but was quite busy trying to balance the basket between her hip and hand while her opposite arm stretched for the remaining fruit on the highest end.

A part of the banker idly wished his wife could have seen how petite she appeared in that very moment. If anything, Cosimo barely noticed that very fact himself given how tall she would usually stand beside anyone, her poise and elegance and that fearlessness about her could eclipse any thoughts of it. After all, this was the woman who rode with a horse into the Signoria ( and he still heard of it to this date, how he should have taught her better ).

As if he wished to.

While he had been immensely displeased by that whole ordeal concerning his exile, even more so for how he hadn’t managed to sort things out by himself, the man grew to acknowledge that if she hadn’t done that very thing, his thread would have been cut much sooner. Look at them, running Florence undisputed with the Pope by their feet, part of it him and part of it her.

Perhaps that was why he felt comfortable to rest a hand on the small of her back, tower over her from behind as he reached for the red fruit with further ease. There was no flinch on her part as she conceded to his move, allowed him to help afore the collected was pressed onto her palm only so she could place it among the others.

“Thank you”, came her sweet gratitude, face tilting to scan his handsome expression as she finally took in how close he stood by.

Something she was due to get used to, eventually, how they appeared to have breached through the thick walls of distance even as his ( _former_ ) mistress was well-into her seventh month of pregnancy with _his_ child. It was beyond the point; they had found peace and it was out of her character to hold grudge through even waters.

“I want to show you something”, his hand dropped from her, a step aside to invite her to walk beside him as she was seemingly done given the full basket ahand. “Put on a veil and meet me by the doorway, yes?”

Which meant they were heading out of the palazzo, but not further away that would require her to change into anything fancier than what she wore by then. With a curt nod, the woman passed him the basket without further ado.

“Since you are downstairs, would you mind dropping this by the kitchen?”

“You know _not_ ”, and she fought the urge to say that she didn’t, for this was their first spring without butting heads.

Chose against it, this was his way of showing that he was _trying_ to do better and she would take every single bit of it. Hence, a small smile would be the last he saw of her pale countenance before she moved away to do as he had requested, sapphire sight locked on her figure as the banker was left a couple of steps behind with the basket.

A minute staring at her until he accidentally caught sight of Piero and ( a very pregnant ) Lucrezia happily heading out of the house. At last, it appeared life had smiled upon his son as well, the sign that time was passing before his eyes was that he was due to become a grandsire quite soon. And in times like this, Cosimo had to push away that old habit to think of what life could have been instead of seeing to what life actually was.

How good it had been on him, in fact, regardless of how many sacrifices it took all those decades to build onto what he had achieved by the present. Nothing in life came without it, he soon learned, and as he passed by to head into the kitchen, he was filled with the memory of the time he accidentally came across Contessina in this very environment.

Her belly was rounded, cheeks were fuller and she had this glow about her that he could never quite grasp the exact reason behind. Only struck her when she was with child, her skin would appear kissed by the whole night sky and he found her the most dashing figure of all. Perhaps it was that part of him that took pride that this was their child she bore, that they had finally managed to create life together as his father so often pestered him to by that time’s period.

“What are you doing here?”, had been her very words, almost shocked that he knew the path to the kitchen ( _especially_ by that time of the evening ).

“Should ask you the same”, came his voice as he stood by the doorway with tense shoulders, a flick of curiosity to his features laced to the exhaustion given the late hours he had been working as Giovanni started to pass on some matters solely to his hands. “Is it the child?”

An hesitant question, Cosimo’s steps further into the candlelit room much like his tone. Almost as though he dreaded to appear worn out before her when she nurtured his child inside her, such state suddenly striking him as much more laborious than any mathematical move he used to fill up the Medici bank.

“I suppose so. . .”, despite how her palm splayed on her lower abdomen to tell him that it had been just that, the little babe inside her quite active whilst she tried to fall asleep ( and failed miserably for that very reason ). “I am leaving already, will try to get some more rest.”

His jaw clenched slightly, only then taking in that she was five months into her first pregnancy and he hadn’t taken a single evening to sleep beside her. They had been drawn closer by the child, _yes_ , even had he given her a foot of pomegranate due to her lean towards that craving, but there were still many things standing in between them that it took moments like this for him to realize. Sight darted to her; belly visible as she walked by towards him since the exist stood right behind.

“Contessina—”, stiffness sat in his voice, azure hues on the brunette as she came to a small halt beside him. “I will join you in bed, if you’d like.”

Perhaps the instant of bewilderment in her visage was the only one that he dreaded even trying. But then her features softened, morphed into a composition that he would have etched in his memory for all the times she allowed her walls down enough to slip through her composed mask. It was a beautiful sight, Cosimo would entertain in his thoughts before her words came to meet the dimness around them.

“I would like that, yes”, a hint of a grin on the corner of her lips, tempting to tug them upwards and he would soon tell her to wait for him in her chambers.

From then to the present there was much to be spoken of, the banker mused to himself as he caught sight of her coming downstairs with a white veil tucked to her dutifully bound hair. Arm stretched out to help her down the few steps until they were beside one another once again, her height suddenly appearing to be his very same or even more as she was back into her usual self.

Their path outside would be made in comfortable silence, much like many times in over two decades that their marriage held accountable. Outside, Florence would be in the beginning of a new day, many passing by to settle their establishments at the fair or to speak politics with others, men of work and of faith buzzing around as the heart of a city should be.

Feminine hand splayed in the crook of his arm, his lead to their stride still in place as she knew not what to expect from this particular venture. Acquaintances would greet them, merchants who were thankful for the opportunities the bank gave or even the poor who would so often be helped by the good deeds her husband invested in. That status wasn’t quite recent anymore, regardless of how the Medici had acquired tranquility on their rule over Florence in the past year.

Upon arriving at what she thought to be the final destination, a frown of sheer confusion would room once she was met by the insides of Santa Maria del Fiore. The building finally had its Dome carried out, the workers being well-paid for the effort of shaping Brunelleschi’s most adventurous plan ( and Cosimo’s undoubted passion for ever since she met him ). What she was doing in here on a free day for the workers was beyond her understanding, though.

“I’ve showed you the sketches, but I thought I’d give you the full view”, was his coded explanation as the grey-streaked man guided her to a side door that opened into a spiral of endless stairs. “After you.”

There was this bemused expression when Contessina stood right in front of him, the corridor much smaller that he had no option but to face her. His instinct told him to claim her lips, a single touch of affection before they reached final destination. Yet, this was still a place of God, consecrated by the Holy Father himself not much long ago.

“Had you not this grimness about you, I would have thought someone switched my husband for another while I wasn’t looking”, the good humor slipped, earned her a breathy smile on his part and the mother of one counted that as a tiny victory.

Many were the steps between the ground and the final spot, the man holding her back instantly by the end as he stepped forward first to aid her onto the thick border of the octagon-shaped base. A hand of hers clasped his tightly, its match tugging up the hem of her dress as a stumble when they were this high could be life-threatening. Once she met him up at the solid structure, the woman would be mesmerized by the sight she caught.

This was. . . Florence. The entirety of it, no missing bits or fractured scenes. A plain view, all her surroundings being what her husband ruled undisputed by the present, and there was this breath caught in her throat as the sentiment engulfed her chest much like warmness would. This blessed plot, this earth, was spread before her gaze like nothing else she’d ever seen before.

Little did she know that what would capture her attention the most was not how they stood at the top of the world, but that right when they did, his blues were on her and not on the surroundings as he permitted this fondness to creep on his countenance. Almost as if her reaction to this was the most important thing for him, at last.

“It's breathtaking”, her easy smile would be bestowed upon him, reaching the greens of doe eyes. “ _Your_ Florence, as you’ve dreamed all these many years.”

There was pride in her tone, gratitude that he chose to share this momentum with her instead of keeping it to himself per usual. Something she would maintain close to her heart, much like the small gestures on his part that told her that he wasn’t immune to caring for her.

“No—”, there was this brief interlude in which bright-hued visages would collapse with one another, a kaleidoscope of shades behind as the sun reflected into their sights. “ _Our_ Florence”.

Hand that was still holding hers for safety brought her extremity to his lips, pressed plump brims to the back of her palm in an action of utmost respect that found her in genuine awe. There was nothing else for him to say, nothing for him to do. In this last chapter they ( _finally_ ) wrote together, Cosimo had given her something that wasn’t truly known to any other, had gifted Contessina with what she thought unachievable.

_Him_ self.


End file.
